


magenta feelings take up shelter in the base of my spine

by pirateygoodness



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Established Relationship, F/F, Flirting, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:56:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pirateygoodness/pseuds/pirateygoodness
Summary: It takes them a half hour to figure out what, exactly Sara means by an Antiques Road Show, even with Gideon's help. After that, it's another ten minutes with Gideon to figure out how on earth people are supposed to dress in 1997.(or: the extremely true story of Zari and Amaya's trip to 1997 to fix an anachronism.)





	magenta feelings take up shelter in the base of my spine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [falsealarm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/falsealarm/gifts).



> For the prompt, "Zari Tomaz/Amaya Jiwe, fanfic, the missing Mona Lisa mission in Montana. It happened and they were real cute and chummy afterwards and I need to know what happened."
> 
> Pal, I hope you enjoy this a lot, please appreciate my self control in keeping this fic a secret for an entire month. 
> 
> Title is from Savage Garden's "I Want You," a 1997 classic I'm sure everyone remembers, because we are all elderly ladies who can recall the songs of the 1990s very well.

It takes them a half hour to figure out what, exactly Sara means by an Antiques Road Show, even with Gideon's help. After that, it's another ten minutes with Gideon to figure out how on earth people are supposed to dress in 1997. 

Zari takes to 1990s fashion pretty well. Gideon shows them a few options, some pulled from her own archives, some pulled from fashion magazines and movies. She shows them page after page of youths with stick-straight hair in cropped shirts, and more outfits involving track pants than Zari ever wanted to know about. Zari stops Gideon when she gets to a photo of a woman wearing an outfit that's just - it feels like _her._ The clothes are oversized, messy in a way that's clearly intentional, and most importantly, the woman looks _comfortable._ "Gideon, stop," she says. "That one." 

The fabrication room is a bit crowded, with everyone else pairing off, so Zari takes her clothes to change in her own bunk. Her outfit is going to be an oversized t-shirt, black with a design on the front for something called _TKHole_. It's long enough that it extends past her hips, and loose enough that it's not tight around them at all. She puts her jeans on next, the fabric heavier and less stretchy than she's used to. She tucks the shirt in, just like the photo from Gideon's screen, and throws a huge red-and-black flannel overtop of it all.

Zari is keeping these clothes, when this mission is over. 

At the very least, she's keeping the flannel. 

By the time she gets back to the fabrication room, Amaya's dressed. Her hair is the same as it was that morning - clearly the 1990s don't require that to change - and she's bent forward slightly, doing her makeup in front of a little mirror balanced on the counter. She looks _good._

It's a little unfair, how good she looks, how every single decade seems to be one that Amaya was born to live in. She's got this way about her, this knack for fitting in everywhere, effortlessly. Zari shoves her hands into her back pockets and tries not to feel awkward. The ouftit Amaya's chosen is just - the word _sleek_ floats to the front of Zari's thoughts, and that's not quite the right word but it's pretty close. Amaya's wearing this little dress - so short that Zari can't tell if she wants to look away or stare as she bends forward - that from a distance looks black with pink dots. As Zari moves closer, she realizes the fabric is patterned, black with thousands of tiny pink and yellow flowers printed all over it. It's _pretty_ , feminine in a way that Amaya wears so naturally and Zari feels herself start to get flustered just taking her in. 

Amaya's tights end with her feet in a pair of big, mean-looking black boots. She's wearing a short leather jacket to cover her arms, and when she looks up, Zari can see that she’s also put on jewelry: a thick black choker necklace that rests above her totem. It should be silly-looking; the whole ensemble is painfully out of date. Except that on Amaya, it’s not. On Amaya it’s perfect, it’s the way she was meant to look and Zari can’t quite stop drinking her in. 

Zari's changed her mind. She loves the nineties. 

Amaya's makeup is simple; a little mascara and some dark red lipstick, but it's more than enough to - what's the phrase Nate loves - _complete the look_. 

"You look, um. Good," Zari says. "Very period-appropriate." 

Amaya smiles. It's her soft one, the one that's getting more and more familiar lately. The one she gives Zari when she's a little flustered, and Amaya is charmed. She steps into Zari’s personal space, grabs the ends of Zari’s flannel and tugs at them. “Thank you,” she says. “You look good, too. I like this on you.” 

Zari shrugs. “At least we get to go to an era where women are allowed to wear comfortable clothes,” she says.

Amaya’s still fiddling with the ends of Zari’s shirt, her hands swaying back and forth a little as she looks at Zari. She’s lovely this close up, beautiful as her brow furrows gently and she reads Zari’s expression. 

Zari’s trying not to let her heart race too much, but it’s - well, it’s Amaya. “You ready to go rescue the Mona Lisa?” Amaya asks. The question is innocent but her tone is decidedly _not_ , low and flirtatious enough that it gets under Zari’s skin, sends a little shiver up her spine. 

“Yeah,” Zari says. “Let’s do this.” 

Amaya grins, and before she steps away she leaves a little peck on Zari’s cheek. Zari feels herself flush, cheeks going hot at the softness of Amaya’s mouth, at the way Amaya’s hair tickles against her cheek. Zari inhales, trying to catch her breath, and she times it just right to get a noseful of florals and coconut and whatever else Amaya uses on her hair. She always smells just as pretty as she looks. 

“Good,” Amaya replies.

Going to the Antiques Roadshow means bringing something to have appraised. Gideon's fabricated them a teacup, which _technically_ means it’s not an antique at all, but she's assured them both that it’s a dead ringer for the missing cup from a set owned by Eleanor Roosevelt, worth several thousand dollars at least. Zari picks it up from the fabrication chamber, twirling it around her index finger a few times. Amaya catches her, clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “Stop that,” she chides, gently. “That’s a valuable antique.” 

“Gideon literally just made it, I’m pretty sure she can make another if this one breaks.”

“I can,” Gideon replies, proudly.

But Amaya’s already got both of her hands wrapped around the cup, one holding Zari still and the other carefully easing the cup off of her finger. She tucks it into the box they’ve already prepared, a Nike shoebox from 1994 filled with tissue. “We’re supposed to take good care of it,” Amaya says. 

Zari’s feeling a little giddy, excited over the mission and light with the fact that she gets to spend all of it with just Amaya while she's looking like _that_. She sticks her tongue out at Amaya. It’s immature, teasing, all of the things Zari usually isn’t but there’s something about today that's drawing out this side of her. 

Amaya stops still, her eyes going wide with surprise before she bursts into giggles. “Save that for later,” she says. 

Now it’s Zari’s turn to be surprised. She puts her tongue back in her mouth. It’s not that she - they’ve _had sex_ , she’s had her tongue inside Amaya more than once. But the fact that Amaya’s bringing it up, flirting so openly, gives Zari butterflies. 

She coughs, tries to roll her eyes and not think about the way Amaya’s gaze lingered as she said the word _later._ “Whatever, then. Let’s get going.” 

The time courier is on Amaya's wrist, hidden under the sleeve of her jacket, and she winks at Zari as she taps to open a portal. 

Zari does a quick check in the mirror before she follows. There’s a little burgundy mark on her cheek in the shape of Amaya’s kiss, and her cheeks are flushed bright red - tellingly so. She grabs a makeup wipe, scrubbing until Amaya’s lipstick is gone, before she steps through to 1997. 

+

Montana is a pretty bleak place. 

Sure it’s pretty in theory, and yeah there are mountains somewhere. All of that is probably quite lovely. But they're standing in the parking lot of a flea market in Billings, half a mile down the highway outside of town, and it's - _bleak_ is the kindest thing Zari can think of. 

The market itself is basically a warehouse. There's a queue near the door, mostly old people carrying boxes of old junk, waiting to drop it off at the table marked _Antiques Roadshow_ for appraisal before filming. The rest of the inside is a maze of stalls, each one selling something different - one with boxes of old records, one collectible souvenir spoons - and hardly any standing room in between. 

Zari and Amaya are dressed for the time period, but here, they stick out like sore thumbs. They’re the youngest people here by at least several decades, with the possible exception of the bored-looking teenager at the stand selling used cassette tapes.

Amaya doesn’t say anything but Zari can see the way she bristles, standing a little straighter in line beside her. Zari shifts, adjusting the straps of the backpack she's wearing. There's nothing in it but a fake copy of the Mona Lisa, a paint-by-numbers version that Gideon fabricated as a decoy, just in case. 

They drop off their teacup - Zari with a little story she pulled together about finding it in her great aunt’s attic after she passed away, Amaya with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes - and then there’s nothing for them to do but wait. 

Zari tugs at Amaya’s arm, and says, “Let’s go take a look around.” 

Amaya frowns at her, a little. She's got her business face on, the flirtatious gleam in her eye a little dimmer. “We’re supposed to be keeping an eye out for that painting,” she says. 

Maybe Zari feels brave, maybe she just feels like Amaya needs the break and so does she but she laces her fingers into Amaya’s and says, “And we’re going to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves.” 

“What did you have in mind?” Amaya asks. She's watching Zari thoughtfully, her expression thoughtful as she waits for Zari to convince her. Zari feels Amaya's thumb across her knuckles, affectionate and tender before Amaya releases her hand. 

“Well, we know that the Mona Lisa is somewhere, but the entries for the show itself are closed until taping and we don’t actually know that it’s there. It could be anywhere in the market, right?”

That gleam comes back. “So really, we’re just doing our job by checking it out.” Amaya replies. 

“Exactly,” Zari says. 

“Well, then. Let’s go.” Amaya takes a step forward, into the crowd and toward the nearest aisle piled with what a hand-lettered sign describes as BARGAINS. Her skirt swishes, drawing Zari's eye down to the tops of her thighs. Zari's mouth is suddenly dry, as she follows. 

The first aisle is mostly old music - records and cassette tapes and CDs, all stacked high on tables. There's even someone advertising _8-track tapes, genuine!!_. Zari doesn't know what that even means, but there's one grey-bearded collector at the stall who's clearly very excited. 

The second aisle is clothing, garments that Zari recognizes as being mostly from the 1960s and 1970s. There's a stall at the end selling vintage linens and handkerchiefs, and Amaya lingers there for a little while, her fingertips running across the stacks of fabric with just a little bit of longing. 

Around the corner is a stand filled with nothing but vintage coffee cups. Amaya takes Zari's hand at the sight of it, dragging her forward. Zari feels the sudden contact in her skin, and in the quickening of her pulse at the feeling, the way it makes her feel like she's sort of buzzing, all over. Amaya squeezes Zara’s hand and points to a set of mugs, both a beautiful shade of jade green. 

“The diner around the corner from the JSA training facility had those exact cups. We used to get breakfast there all the time.” Amaya's voice is soft with nostalgia and warmth as she speaks. 

“You want to take a closer look?” Zari asks. She doesn’t have much money, but she shoved a few twenties from Gideon’s currency bank into her back pocket before they left and that’d be more than enough for a special coffee mug for Amaya. 

Amaya shakes her head. Her smile is a little sad for a moment, but she forces it brighter and tugs Zari onward. 

Three stalls down, Amaya falls in love. 

It happens in front of a stall run by an elderly couple, easily in their seventies. Every inch of it is covered with little glass cases, each filled with watches. Some of them look modern - there are dozens of brightly coloured ones, all stamped with the logo _Swatch_ \- and some look much, much old. “Oooh,” Amaya says, already tugging Zari toward it. “Zari can we -“ 

She doesn’t finish her sentence. She just moves forward, until she's managed to tuck herself into the only free standing room available. She points to the glass case in front of her. “Zari, _look._ ” 

Zari looks. 

The case that Amaya’s interested in is full of pocket watches; in a wide variety of sizes and states of repair. Some are clearly brand new, with modern logos across the face, but the one that Amaya’s looking at is - well, it’s just fitting, is all. The watch is so old that it predates Amaya; the sticker says _1910s_ and it definitely looks its age. The second hand isn’t moving, but the face is intact. It seems like it's in good shape, and the right person could probably get it working again with a little tinkering. “It’s nice,” Zari tries. 

“It’s _beautiful_ ,” Amaya whispers. “When I was a girl I always wanted a watch like that. They always looked so important.” 

The shopkeeper is watching them from a polite distance; it’s not hard for Zari to catch her eye. “How much for the one in the corner?” 

She leans over and shrugs; clearly it's not the most valuable piece in the case. “Nineteen?” She says. 

Amaya hears her, turns to insist that it’s alright, that she doesn’t need it. “She'll take it,” Zari says over her. She fishes out a bill from her pocket, takes the change while the shopkeeper rummages for the keys to the display case. 

Amaya's smile has a soft edge to it, as she turns to look at Zari. She meets her eyes, mouths the words _thank you_ and runs a quick hand across Zari's lower back, like maybe she wants to pull her into a hug. Zari feels like she's taller, somehow. "Don't worry about it," she says. 

She's trying to shrug it off, to make it seem like it's not a big deal, but it is. It is because Amaya holds the watch in both hands and runs her thumb over the face, clearly delighted. It's a big deal because Amaya looks at Zari like she wants to give her a kiss, right here in the market. She settles for biting her lip instead, looking at Zari with as much warmth as she can manage. Zari doesn't know how to think about anything else. 

They keep walking, Amaya with her new watch in her jacket pocket, Zari trying not to look too proud of herself. Now that they're close to the back of the market, things seem more like what they're trying to find. The stalls here mostly have - well, _art_ is maybe a stretch, there's mostly decorative ceramic ballerinas and souvenir wooden figurines. But they're getting closer. 

They turn another corner, and suddenly there are stands with boxes of electronics, overflowing with derelict blenders and prehistoric computer parts and that's when Zari sees it, in the back corner. A copy of the original _Super Mario Bros._ , the box a little dented around the edges but mostly intact. 

It's not important. Gideon can fabricate every game that's ever been made; she's played games on the original Nintendo before. But something about having her own copy, a souvenir from a time before her own time, it makes her heart race. 

Amaya notices. "What is it?" 

Zari shrugs. "It's not a big deal." 

Amaya nudges Zari with her shoulder. " _What_?"   
Zari sighs. She feels oddly nervous, tries to tell herself that it's just Amaya, that it's not a big deal. "Oh, they've got - it's the original Mario game. It's kind of a big deal." 

Amaya frowns for a moment. "He's the one that jumps, right? With the mushroom friends?" 

Zari laughs. "Yeah, that's - that's the one."

"Oh, but you love that game. Which one is it?"   
Zari points, and before they can really talk about it any more Amaya's _there_ , pointing at the box and smiling prettily. She twirls a strand of hair around her finger, and suddenly she's pressing a couple of bills into the shopkeeper's hand. Zari wants to tell Amaya that it's too much, that she doesn't need to, but before she can get herself to react, Amaya's handing the box to her. Her smile is so wide, so pretty and full of delight that Zari sort of forgets how to speak. "There," she says. "Now we both have souvenirs." 

Zari's heart does something funny; Amaya's expression is giving her butterflies all over and she's sure she's blushing. She wants to be able to give Amaya a kiss, the secret kind that she presses to the curve of Amaya's neck, while she hides her face in Amaya's shoulder. Instead she settles for smiling, hugging the game close to her chest. "Thank you," she says, trying to express as much feeling as she can in those two words. 

Amaya ducks her head, looks at Zari sort of sideways. "You're welcome," she replies. 

They walk a little further, down the remainder of that aisle and then another. 

They find the Mona Lisa in a stall in the back corner of the warehouse; set aside by the shopkeeper to show to the Roadshow when they come by. Zari almost doesn't recognize it for what it is - the portrait looks new. She nudges Amaya, and tries to gesture without pointing. "There." 

Amaya nods. "Yeah. I think so. Give me your bag." 

Zari slides her backpack off and hands it to Amaya, trying to follow her gaze. Amaya's looking closely at the display; the way the paintings are stacked next to the other wares for sale, which mostly appear to be vintage coffee and cookie tins. She makes a point of catching Zari's eye, looking closely at an especially precarious stack of tins and then back at the painting. 

Zari nods. It's a good plan. 

She takes a deep breath, feels for her totem underneath her t-shirt. She touches it through the fabric, tries to hide the red glow with her palm as she sends the smallest gust of wind that she can manage toward the display.

The first stack falls over with a clatter, and soon it's a cascade; each stack knocking more down as they fall. It's about to be a disaster - everything was piled too precariously to stay put. The shopkeeper turns immediately, patting at the display ineffectually to try to keep it from collapsing. It feels a little mean to find it funny, but Zari can't suppress a giggle at the scene. 

Amaya moves so quickly that Zari almost misses her; slipping their fake painting out of the backpack and replacing it with the original. She's back at Zari's side in no time, cheeks a little flushed. "You good?" she asks. 

From the corner of her eye, Zari spots a security guard - elderly, walking with a limp - coming down the aisle to investigate the commotion. "Yeah," Zari replies. "We should get out of here, though." 

Amaya takes her hand and pulls. 

They're not running away, they're just - walking briskly, Amaya pulling and Zari doing her best to follow. It's not dangerous, none of this is, but despite all of that Zari can feel the buzz of adrenaline rising inside her, heart hammering behind her chest and making her breath catch just a little. 

Amaya leads them down the aisles to the outside wall of the building. She's looking for a door, Zari can tell that much, but there doesn't seem to be a side exit at all. What they do find is a bathroom, single stall with a deadbolt on the door, and when Amaya tries the handle it opens freely. 

She hustles Zari inside, her smile a little wild and a little breathless and Zari feels a bit of relief at that. It's a comfort to know that she's not the only one a little wired, a little jittery from the excitement of pulling off the swap. 

Amaya leans across Zari's body as soon as she's inside, reaching behind her to turn the deadbolt. It presses her against the whole length of Zari, her body adrenaline-warmed. Zari can feel the rise and fall of Amaya's chest, coming quickly. 

(She can see it, too, the rise and fall of Amaya's breasts above the neckline of her dress and she's trying not to stare, trying not to think about _that_ but it's a short leap for her body to switch from wired to aroused and Amaya's been gorgeous all day.)

Zari can't tell which one of them starts the kiss. 

She's aware of her back pressed against the door. She's aware of Amaya, that grin filling her field of vision, the soft press of her breasts against Zari's chest. She's aware of Amaya's hands coming up to her waist, tickling her ribs through her shirt, and Amaya's warm breath and then. 

Then they're kissing. 

They probably aren't supposed to be kissing right now; they're on a mission and they need to get out of here now that they've got the painting and also a hundred other very important reasons that Zari forgets, immediately. Amaya's lips are soft and they haven't kissed in days and that feels like such a tremendous oversight, what was Zari _doing_ with her life when she could have been using that time to feel like this. 

Amaya kisses with her whole body, arching in against Zari's body and slipping her tongue against Zari's lower lip when she gasps at the feeling. Amaya kisses like she needs it, like Zari's the most important person in the universe. Zari shouldn't be aroused, not this soon, but the sudden ache between her thighs is saying otherwise. 

"Um," Zari mumbles, inarticulately, as Amaya breaks the kiss. "That's -" 

Amaya's eyes are bright and full of intent, and she slowly catches her own lip between her teeth, biting down. "You just seemed like you needed it," Amaya says. Her voice is low and to Zari's ears it just sounds like desire. 

"Thanks," Zari whispers. 

Amaya's hands are at Zari's waist, and she slides them a bit further down to Zari's hips, tucking her index fingers into the belt loops of Zari's jeans. "I want you to come over here," Amaya says. 

The bathroom, now that Zari's looking at it, is a fair size. The toilet is in the far corner to Zari's right side, and on the wall across from the door is a sink with a long countertop beside it. The paper towel dispenser and trash can are to Zari's left. Zari nearly trips over her own feet Amaya tugs her forward. 

They've talked about this before. It's not really a secret that Amaya's got a kink for this, that finding ways to have sex on mission is one of her very favourite things. She's just never done it with Zari before, and Zari can't tell just yet if this is where Amaya wants it to head. But then Amaya hops up onto the counter, spreads her legs just a little so that Zari can see just how _short_ her dress is. 

So, that's what's happening. 

Zari's hands are already on Amaya's thighs. She's wearing tights, and Zari suddenly wants - needs - to know exactly how high they go. She runs her palms across the outsides of Amaya's thighs, just past the hem of her dress. She's expecting to feel nylon all the way up to Amaya's ass, but she's surprised by the feel of elastic and then bare skin and oh, _oh_ she's wearing stockings. Zari hears herself sigh in delight, involuntarily. 

Above her, Amaya giggles. "You found them," she says. 

Zari looks up at her, almost accusatory. "You were planning this," Zari replies. 

Amaya shrugs, somehow managing to wrap her legs around Zari's waist with the same gesture, and pulls Zari a step closer to the edge of the counter. "I just thought it might come up. If you wanted to." 

Zari's pretty sure that if Amaya had asked about this a few hours ago, when they were back on the ship, she would have balked. But now Amaya's here and _beautiful_ and she's slouched on the edge of the counter in that tiny dress and looking at the situation, Zari very much wants to. "I, um. Yeah," she says. "I think I want to." 

Amaya grins again, wriggles off of the counter and into the space between the edge of it and Zari's body. She slips her hands underneath her dress, and suddenly she's back on the counter and her panties are on the floor and _oh_ , there's that too. 

Amaya pulls Zari down into a slow kiss, the kind that starts out tender and finishes full of wanting, her tongue licking into Zari's mouth. Zari leans into it, steps closer until she can feel Amaya's pelvis pressed against her, grinding against the fly of her jeans. 

"So," Amaya says, the next time they part to breathe. "Are we gonna. . .?"

"You sure you're ready for me to -" Zari begins, reaching between their bodies to slide her fingertips against Amaya. As soon as Zari feels her, she stops talking. Amaya's _so wet_ , nothing but velvety slick and Zari has to close her eyes with delight for a moment. "How do you want me to make you feel good?" she says, once she's recovered. 

Amaya sighs, her voice suddenly breathless. "Whatever you - _oh_ , whatever you want." 

Zari takes a moment. She feels sort of powerful now, as she slides her fingers in between Amaya's folds and finds her clit, feels it firm against her thumb. She traces soft circles, gets to watch as Amaya's hips rock into her, as Amaya leans her head back against the wall behind her and lets her expression go slack with delight. She could fuck Amaya like this, up against the wall. But the counter's also sort of a weird height and Zari wonders if this would work better if she were down on her knees. 

She's not thinking about what she's doing in context. It's not about _kneeling on a bathroom floor_ , it's about kneeling in front of Amaya and wanting to make her feel good the best way she knows how. It's that.

The counter, it turns out, is the perfect height. If Zari kneels and keeps her thighs straight up, her chin is perfectly level with the counter top. "Hey, can you -" Zari starts to say, but she doesn't need to finish. 

Amaya slouches down, rearranging herself so that her thighs are resting on Zari's shoulders. She's resting back on her elbows; the counter not quite long enough for her to lie down. Amaya wriggles her hips once more, slouching just a little farther forward. She's glistening in front of Zari, slick and ready and eager and Zari can't wait to taste her. 

She leans in, licking the flat of her tongue across Amaya's slit. From above, Amaya's gasp comes out sudden and loud, the tail end of it cut off as she tries to control herself. "Don't be too loud," Zari says. 

"I'm - yes," Amaya says. Her voice is a little dazed, like she's thinking more about the end goal and less about whether or not they get walked in on. " _Please_ , just -"

She doesn't have to finish. Zari's already nosing forward, slipping her tongue into Amaya's folds to find her clit. This isn't the time for slowness or gentleness. She licks at Amaya with purpose. Amaya's so wet already, so slippery against her chin. When she makes noise this time she's quieter, letting out soft little gasps that are impossibly high pitched. They urge Zari on. She lets her tongue swirl, laps it against the the base of Amaya's clit and then upward, flicking the way she knows Amaya likes. It's so good. It's impossibly sexy, even like this. It's the feel of Amaya's inner thighs warm and soft against Zari's cheeks, and the way that her dress slides down her thighs to cover the top of Zari's head and flutter against her neck. 

She listens as Amaya's gasps grow higher, licks again and again until they stop altogether. Amaya goes still, inhales sharply, and then she starts to shake against Zari's mouth. Zari can feel it even if she can't hear it, the pulse and flutter of Amaya's inner walls flexing against her chin as Amaya rides out her orgasm. 

Amaya's fluttering gradually slows, and from above her, Zari can hear Amaya start to breathe again. She's gasping at first, catching her breath. Zari waits, lapping little shudders out of her until she hears Amaya catch her breath enough to laugh with relaxed delight. 

Zari leans back, just far enough that her head is out from under Amaya's dress. Amaya is just - Zari wants to take a photograph, to capture this particular moment forever. Amaya's red-faced and post-coital, a fine sheen of sweat across her face and chest making her shimmer in the terrible fluorescent light. She's still wearing that 1990s outfit, her little flower dress and her jacket and the collar necklace thick across her throat. Zari just doesn't think she's ever seen anyone look quite this beautiful, before. And then there's Amaya's smile, the way she's looking at Zari like she's the sun, full of gratitude and the drowsy post-coital endorphin rush. 

Amaya motions for Zari to come closer, opening her arms wide. Zari stands. Her knees are a little stiff from the floor but it doesn't matter right now, because Amaya's wrapping herself around Zari and hugging her tight, leaving light little kisses across her cheek, her temple, her shoulder. "That was _lovely_ ," Amaya whispers, and the gratitude in her voice makes Zari's heart sing a little. 

"You're lovely," Zari whispers, into the curve of Amaya's neck. It's the truth, but it also feels like a secret, something she doesn't want just anyone to know. 

Amaya kisses the top of Zari's head, ducks her head so that Zari looks up and lets Amaya reach her mouth. Amaya kisses her all over, lips and chin and cheeks, kisses herself off of Zari's mouth. She's so _tender_ , so loving, and they're having sex in the wrong decade in a bathroom stall, it shouldn't be any of that. 

Amaya makes Zari feel wonderful, no matter when or where they are. 

"Do you want a turn?" Amaya asks, with her mouth against Zari's cheek. 

Zari feels her body respond, a sudden rush of sensation fluttering between her thighs. She's worked up, surprisingly so. Unbidden, she has a mental image of being pressed agains the wall, of Amaya's hand between her legs and it's almost irresistible. Zari squirms. But as much as she likes the idea of this, she's not sure she'd be able to enjoy herself, here. "Um," she says, acutely aware of how breathless she suddenly sounds. "Can we, uh. Back on the ship?" 

Amaya kisses her on the mouth, slow and sweet but dirty enough that Zari feels herself sort of flex inside. "You bet." 

Amaya slides off the counter as their kiss ends, finds her panties and fixes her hair. Her lipstick is completely gone, half kissed away and half lingering on Zari's mouth. She fixes her own mouth, then gives Zari space to lean in toward the mirror and scrub at her own face, until she looks presentable once again. 

Amaya's standing behind Zari, and she presses herself in close, wraps herself around Zari's back and meets her eyes in the mirror. "You look good," she murmurs. 

"Yeah, well," Zari says. "You're okay." 

Amaya giggles and kisses Zari's shoulder. Zari's getting that warm feeling again, affection blooming behind her ribs for everything that Amaya chooses to be. When she's done being smitten, she looks up again. "You ready to go?" Amaya asks. 

Zari nods in the affirmative. Amaya steps back and takes her by the hand, extends her arm to reveal the time courier beyond the end of her sleeve. "Let's go put a priceless painting back where it belongs," she says, cocky and a little pithy, just like the captain. 

Zari rolls her eyes, but she squeezes Amaya's hand in agreement. Amaya opens the portal and Zari follows. She can't imagine doing anything else.


End file.
